The Blue Coffee Mug

      

    It was as if a magnetic force had emanated from the very world itself... a long crack started forming in my blue glass coffee mug. I’ve never seen a mug just disintegrate like this. It wasn’t just a mug - it was the mug she gave me. She knew my habit of using the same coffee cup every morning. So one day by herself at the mall she bought me another one -the same but in blue. I never told her properly, but to me it was an amazing gift. I just liked that she was thinking of me. And now that very blue mug was splintering right in my hands from merely putting regular temperature water in it. Something was happening, there was some incongruence in the world, as it couldn’t just be chance that the day it cracked was also the day of our last cyber argument...  the last time we communicated.

    

   A Danish friend recently told me– “some of my girlfriends think that you don’t like them.” A little surprised I answered her by saying – “don’t be crazy of course I do.”   To which she added – “some of them told me they kind of fancy you, but you don’t seem to fancy them they think.” It was interesting to hear this, because it brought forward something that I knew. Something, I’d been trying to forget. I’m a fool, but I still love her. She’s beautiful to me, and she will be forever... long after her youth fades. She gives the world a blasé persona as a defence to protect her best parts: the shy her, the sensitive her, the artistic her, the real her. I once knew the real her, though not anymore, and I know I could live a thousand lifetimes and never meet anyone like that again.

   
     This tale is one of personal growth as when feelings get that deep you will change from it. I can’t sit here like some perfect romantic when in reality I failed myself and her. Life brings answers but in its due time, not your own...  I was so relaxed about our growing relationship. I let her put herself forward to expand it, and when we were a continent away I relaxed in the comfort that there was someone out there that wanted me. I didn’t push to come back together when I could have. I wasn’t explicit in the here and now. I was comfortable that it would remain, it would always remain... it didn`t.  And now I have nothing again... except a deep well of regret. And now each time I feel low – I know that it will be her I think of and what I lost in that moment when the blue coffee mug cracked.

Film Review: Source Code

    “Source Code” combines Science fiction with a detective thriller as Jake Gyllenhall awakens to find himself in another man’s body, talking to a beautiful woman named Christine (Michelle Monaghan) that knows him - but he doesn’t know her, on a train that is going to explode in 8 minutes. He will have this experience again and again.

     Confused yet!? Well, you should be... but with 93 minutes of brisk film making director Keith Duncan – of “Moon” fame - puts himself to task of making sense of it all. The concept of repeating the same day, or moment, repeatedly is reminiscent of “Ground Hog Day” but this time it’s done as a thriller. Does this intriguing premise pan out? Yes, what we’re left with is a well paced film that may leave some scientific purest scratching their heads a little, but audiences entertained with good suspense and character development.

      A real world dimension gives the story more complexity when Army Captain Colter Stephens (Gylenhal) wakes up in his own body after dying the first time on the train. He is in some type of army bunker – trapped and confused why he is there. His only real world contact is Colleen Goodwin (Vera Farminga) who speaks to him via a monitor. She informs him that he has been chosen for a mission to uncover who placed the bomb on the train so the bomber can be apprehended in the present. This is possible because of something called the Source Code, a new technology that allows Colter to relive the last 8 minutes of another passenger from the ill fated train’s life. He will be sent back to those 8 minutes again and again. Suspended disbelieve may need to come into play as aspects of the theory of the Source Code are a little preposterous.  

     The real intrigue of the film is back on the train where everyone is a potential suspect. Repeating the same event means there are no consequences for Colter’s actions. To amusing effect he yells at, beats up, and even robs people in his efforts to find the bomber. Character development is evident as suspects are eliminated from suspicion – then appear again in Coulter’s next 8 minutes unknowing to how they were previously treated.  The only person he can trust is Catherine as his attraction to her grows each time he returns. The attraction between the leads gives the film heart as their chemistry is pliable and believable thanks in large part to Monaghan’s performance.  

    In the end we are left with a thriller that does provide genuine twists, entertains, and leaves the viewer thinking after the film is finished. Is this film a mind twisting epic at the level of “Memento” or “Twelve Monkeys” – no, but for intelligent summer fare, it more than fills the bill. Good performances and mounting tension make me recommend seeing it.   4 out of 6 Stars.

The Dilemma...

    Dilemma, dilemma... two places to be and only one me.  The legendary Roskilde Festival and my first travel friend’s wedding in Slovenia are on the same weekend in early July. Beyond cursing the luck of it all, what can I do? I want to be at both places at once.

     I heard of the Roskilde festival years ago back when I lived in the Netherlands. Over the years it has hosted some unbelievable line ups – featuring the likes of Prince, Kanye West, Bob Dylan, David Bowie, Oasis, The Who, The Chemical Brothers, Radio Head, and the Beastie Boys.... to name just a few. Beyond the big acts Roskilde is a celebration of the Danish pathos. If you can believe it, the entire festival is done for charity. All the money goes to promoting culture and art in Denmark. Literally thousands of volunteers are needed in order to make Roskilde’s charitable aims possible. Inside the festival egalitarian life prevails... there’s no fights, guys pee next to girls and everyone gets along smashingly. That’s not even mentioning the annual nude race around the camp ground. To be fair, by everyone’s admission, this year’s line up is not quite up to par to past years with Iron Maiden, Kings of Leon, Arctic Monkeys, and M.I.A headlining. The truth is though my main draw to the festival is to be around the new friends I’ve made here in Copenhagen. I want to have our friendships cemented with the indelible memories that roughing it and party till we can’t party anymore can only bring. Those are the moments that are retold and define friendships.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have had more than one person tell me: “you have to be there, you have to be there with us.” And to be honest - that felt good.

      I met Adam 10 years ago in a hostel in Brighton. I walked in there so eager, so earnest, and so unschooled in the art of travel. This Kiwi guy was brash, confident, and had more than his fair share of swagger. He ended up becoming my first close travel friend and in many ways, being 2 years older than me, a bit of a mentor. He met his Slovenian bride to be Petra in that very same hostel, I met her then too. Their story has been epic having taking place over ten years. In the end love can never be dissuaded, if it’s real, as after meet ups, hook ups, other partners, and even years of silence they are now getting married. And not just getting married, but married in a spot so idyllic it could bring a tear to an angel's eye. In all my travels I can honestly say Lake Bled maybe one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.The church in the middle of the lake is as if out of a fairy tale, it’s the kind of place Cinderella would be getting married. Adam and Petra want me there. As Petra said to me – “you’d be the only person at the wedding that was there right from the beginning...” It is true, I saw the initial spark of what I could only assume would just be a hostel flash in the pan transcend into something definite and real – maybe even an eternal flame. A trip to Slovenia would bring my travels full circle. I’d be connecting these new experiences in Denmark to my beginning as a traveler with no less magnanimous of a backdrop than that of love and marriage. There's something slightly mystical about that...

    So there stands my Dilemma. Maybe it’s not quite to the level of the infamous dilemma a French student once brought to Jean Paul Sartre, but it is a dilemma no less. One course of action means denying the other. I’ve swayed back and forth, depending who I talk to, but this weekend once and for all I will bring out the mental scales and reach my decision.  

Tattoo’s on the Inside

     In my first travel’s ten years ago I use to scratch out theories of time, space, and psychology into my note books. My favourite movies play on these themes; the brilliance of how time travel theoretically couldn’t alter the past: “Twelve Monkeys”; how the creation and re-creation of self is based on memories often skewed and distorted to our own needs: “Memento”, and the bizarre, surrealistic interplay of memories in the dream state: “Mulholland Drive.” A little nerdy, yeah... but with that said, I’d like to talk today about one theory of time and the experience of time I have.   

    The first 17 years of my life seemed to happen a lot slower than the post ceding 16 years. As a young person everything was so real. All the firsts – my first steps, my first words, my first friend, my first kiss, my first taste of longing, my first heart break, my first time being drunk...  In each of these moments I didn’t have a blue print of how I was supposed to respond or feel. The feelings from those moments were uproarious and definite. With age there aren’t as many firsts; our brain makes it such as in adolescents synaptic connections- and the potential for newness -  are pruned to give more order and pattern to thinking, and even society tries to channel people towards more sedate, productive lives. Like it or not, pattern is thrust upon us.

    From my experience new events, or at least the events that generate strong feelings, are what gives time its sense of longevity. In periods of strife or joy time has the sensation of slowing down as the brain/mind learns and changes from the experience. These are the moments that are recounted in stories to friends and reflected upon privately, they stand as markers to life lived and because of that live deep and long in our consciousness. A person is totally present in those moments. In contrast routine life doesn’t create this memorable character that is why it slips out of memory so easily.

    Where the illusion of time passing faster occurs is when there aren’t that many visceral memories to reflect on. Years stuck in similar patterns of work, socializing, and thinking will become indistinguishable from periods of the same. I’ve had this experience with a few jobs I wasn’t interested in. Later I would scarcely remember specifics as my brain consolidated those memories into one grey, homogenized glob. Alternatively time spent challenging oneself, embracing newness, and risking new intense emotions will leave specific memory points. With memory points, that period lives on inside of you; without them there won’t be anything to grasp on to. One year goes by, then another...  Revisiting the idea of youth, my first 17 years seemed longer because there were so many more memory points in close succession to each other.        

      The solution to slowing down the experience of time is to allow oneself a child like wonder again.  The pursuit of firsts must continue even just meeting new people, seeing and learning new things and going to new places.  It’s trendy in some circles to be blasé and try to avoid emotion or risk – but fuck that! Routine should be avoided, despite the security of it, as much as possible. Safety is in conformity and pattern, but to look back at a life and barely even be able to identify new moments aside from misfortune is sad. Life is based around change and challenge. These are things that bring risk and fear but the pursuit of it leaves one’s life filled with genuine moments. Moments that will give length to one’s life as these memories cannot be amalgamated - they’re permanent like tattoos on the inside.

The Changing Face of Travel

    The other day I visited an Australian friend who was working at the reception at a hostel here in Copenhagen. We had a few cheeky beers and compared notes on the places we’d traveled, the Australian/ Canadian bond, and the experience of being expats. Where things got interesting however was when the talk turned to how we felt hostels have changed.  Our consensus was that new technologies have negatively altered how people interact. The major culprits being laptops and Facebook.

    Ten years ago no one would ever travel with a laptop. They were WAY to expensive and the threat of losing or having one stolen was far too risky.  Even 3 – 4 years ago they were still too expensive to risk. Now though the cost has come down so much that maybe even half, or more..., of the travelers have one. As a result travelers sit typing away to their friends and family in another part of the world rather than talk to somebody sitting at the next table in the hostel. What’s worse is that a norm has developed too; it’s generally seen as rude to interrupt someone using their laptop. They’re wired in and not to be disturbed kind of like in the old days of internet cafes.

   
     The debate about Facebook wages on. There’s no doubt, it’s a unique way to stay in touch with people. Having been a traveler in the early 2000’s I know that a person has to be a really good friend to maintain a regular emailing relationship.  Facebook bridges that gap by giving smatterings of information about your friend’s lives while still being personal unlike a group email. When you pair this with statuses you have the perfect medium for quick sound bites that show that you are paying attention. Where things get negative is Facebook’s addictive quality. Who hasn’t had the experience of continually refreshing their Facebook news feed despite no new posts?...  it’s like surfing channels when nothing’s on.

      In hostels now people are pathologically wired into Facebook and disconnected from the social world right there. Talking for a few minutes to your friends back home and putting up some pictures is cool, but stretching those few minutes to hours at the expense of meeting all the international people in the hostel? Seems like a bad trade off. Really, it makes me long to see people carrying a good book. At least the majority of people want to put a book down and chat and it’s not that rude to get them to do so. Travel is about challenging and redefining your own character and personality, not further honing your cyber persona. Ironically too a person’s Facebook intrigue is highest while they’re traveling so they receive more attention and are even more so drawn to it. The new generation of travelers need to quit chasing red status notifications, and the brief flicker of self esteem it brings, and start trying to make more lasting friends in the hostel. The rewards for that can be life long...

There's a Sucker Born Every Minute

So hungover! I had two blogs half done. One about the change in hostel life in the last few years because of new technologies and the other about my own personal theory of time...  I’m going to save those for the next few days. Right now, it’s time to turn my sights to something more interesting – sex, hooking up, and a skank competition I just heard about this week.  

     This story can’t begin without a brief description of my closest mate here. Won’t use his name, but the guy is a lady’s man like I’ve never seen before. He’s getting girls, and LOTS of girls, the right way... by being open, having the look they love, and making them choose him. I’ve never, and I’ve been around a lot of guys who talk up how great they are with the ladies, seen someone pull so effortlessly. It’s both interesting and a little annoying, as I have to work so much harder... :P Really though his style is a nice contrast to the Irish and English aggressive style I saw when I lived in Australia. That style basically involved pushing a girl to her limits of saying no – with the hope that by being aggressive she won’t. This is generally an approach that works best with girls with low self esteem. And you wonder why woman often don’t trust men.  But then again... here in Copenhagen women are much more sexually liberated and that trust game can very well go the other way too.

    I had to laugh when the mate I just mentioned told me about a girl he had hooked up with talking about going through what she called – her skanky period. She told him how a friend and her had decided to try to find themselves... via, plenty of cock! They created a scoring system in order to determine who the biggest skank of the two is; a system that apparently works by a combination of the status of the guy they sleep with and the things he does to them.  So the laugh came when my friend noticed that she all of a sudden, after adding to her score with him, was listed a couple days later as being in a relationship. The two of us collectively scratched our heads. When he talked to her online later, it turned out she had been with the same guy for five years. They were just on a break the last few months. I wondered to myself, what he would think of how she used her break from him...? :P Makes me think of the famous PT Barnum quote: “There’s a sucker born every minute.” All the same, kind of have to admire her honesty not only to experiment that way, but talk so candidly about it. Most girls would lie about that till their death bed. So for some last comic relief last night partying with two black reggae guys, the first words out of their mouths when they heard about the competition: “Give her my number!”

A Detente of Separation

     Remembering a night in Edmonton, back in Canada, the guys I’ve known for years are wrestling each other on the floor. Who can dominate the other ones with cut downs and sheer physical strength - important things for guys in Edmonton. A few of us are together, this is rare, my friends wives allow them occasionally to watch sporting events with their old friends – tonight’s is UFC.  I don’t even like UFC, but I have to grab the opportunity to see my old friends. The setting is that you have guys down stairs watching guy’s things, talking about guy’s things, doing guy’s things while the girls sit up stairs doing girl’s things, talking about girl’s things. Thirty plus years of life and this is the advancement of the gender relations – an agreed detente of separation.

     

      I remember coming back from Europe five years ago and making the comment after three months back: why aren’t there more mixed guy/girl groups in Canada? I said this because I’d been living in Amsterdam for so long to me it was just the norm. Almost never did I go out with just the guys when I was there. Always there were girls with us – our friends. I remembered it bothered me to no end. I like having female friends. I like hanging with the guys, and talking our usual shit..., but I think mixed group conversations overall are more fun. Especially with open, say anything types... there’s a little battle of the sexes, but always in jest.

   

    In Denmark, things are in line with Amsterdam. Girls are cool here, there isn’t such a separation between the genders. When the gender divide is up and running both sexes will inherently stereotype and objectify the other sex.  I figure the central difference is that in Northern Europe each gender moves closer to each other in terms of the masculine and feminine. Guys are more feminine and girls are more masculine. Without such a stark divide of socially induced difference people are allowed to be more freely themselves as opposed to acting within the walls of gender expectation. There’s no need to or reason for considering a girl or boy via the litany of smoke screens that exist otherwise. What I mean by that is the whole idea of woman as sex objects and men as status objects. Both of those points of view devalue each gender, are the engine of insecurities for both parties, and ultimately lead to shallow, inherently incorrect, points of view about the opposite gender. Time they went out with the bathwater I say...

   

      It has been nice being here in Copenhagen and having extremely attractive girls just talk to me and actually ask me questions. At the end of the day it’s conversation not a contest of worthiness of being in the same level or class to talk to someone else. Further, with openness that way so much of the seediness, conniving, and objectification that women, often correctly, place on men dissipates away. The sexual tension is reduced as the elephant in the room is talked and laughed about freely. Screw this detente of separation, I always hated it anyway, let’s just have everyone come together, get along, and show their true selves freely and with fun. I want to have girls around at other times then when I’m trying to have sex with them. I like the company, I like the difference in view and position... it’s the way it’s suppose to be.